Voices In The Wind
by sakimidare
Summary: When you are in pain, bite your screams back.Stop the memories and maybe - just maybe - you will survive yet.This is the tale of ten people intent on tracking down their lost siblings, who might or might not be alive.Fem-Germany, fem-China.AU.


**A/N: Don't ask me..just don't...**

**Yeah, another multi-chapter. I am _so_ dead.**

**Date Written: 26th January, 2011**

**Word Count (Excluding the Author's Notes) :1,030**

**Voices In The Wind**

He observes.

He is always silent.

Sometimes he thinks that may be, just may be, he has forgotten how to speak. And he is not really sad about the loss of human speech. He has not used that particular ability for too long to care about its loss. In fact, he thinks he has forgotten what his Mother Tongue was, too. He can not recall a country to which it belonged, and he can not recall his mother's face. That might be his only regret. All he remembers of his family is a soft touch and a soothing voice singing to him. He has forgotten the words, but he remembers the melody. Going by that, he would say it was a sad song.

He does not know where he is, or why he is here, imprisoned in this small room – which is really more like a box – as he has been for God knows how long. With all other perceptions, he has lost the perception of time, as well.

(The whips used to hurt at first, but now it is alright. He is used to the pain, and they never break the routine, coming for him every day at the same time – or at least what he feels is the same time. He is sure of it since thats what the others scream about when they first come here – the sheer monotone of it all drives them mad, they say, it drives them insane. They would give anything to escape this – to break this dull routine. To him it does not matter. It may have used to, once upon some time, but that must have been a very long time ago indeed, since he can not really remember if it was what that drove him mad, too.)

Sometimes, he can hear the man in the cell next to his cry out.

(He is comparatively newer. He has an accent, but he can not tell which one it is. He thinks it is … Turkish? He can not tell. Strange, that..he could almost swear thjat he used to be good at discerning accents some time, but then again, he can not remember or be surwe about it.)

Some respond to the calls, most do not.

And he is not surprised. In fact, he wonders that may be none of them is surprised at this lack of response, this lack of zeal in creating some contact.

He has been here for a long time, and he has seen much, More than he ever wanted to at any rate.

They are all so feisty when they firat arrive. He remembers that voice, screaming it self hoarse about how "Heroes should not be treated like this, you bastards" and "The Hero will save you all! Wait and I will get you all out of here, I swear!". He has not heard that voice for a long time now – it has quietened down, just like that of all the others – the Swiss accent screaming murder (quite literally), the German (or awesome Prussian, as he liked to call himself) screaming that these cells were unawesome and that just wait he was going to kick their sorry asses to the moon, the two Italians begginbg for their lives (with adjectives of "BASTARDS!" thrown in frome one), an English accent asking – no, demanding – to be released at once "in the Bloody Queen's name", the Spanish crying that there were no tomatoes here and where had they put his children? , a female voice with a strange accent he had only been able to place in the genral area of Eastern Europe screeching to let her go if they did not want to be castrated and killed a very slow and very painful death, another female voice with almost the same kind of accent – and by the looks – excuse him, sounds – of it she was the other girl's sister – sobbing and wailing about a lost brother and how were they going to get out and she did not want to die yet and what had they done to her Vanya and oh God let them go please they do not know why this is being done to them she is sure that they have never done anything to deserve any of this, an Aurtrian muttering about the inelegance of the dingy cells and the lack of a piano and the general shabbiness of their surroundings and Gott would the barbarians just shut up he was trying to remember Chopin's compositions to help him sleep.

They are all voices to him. Dismembered voices that simply float around in the wind. Voices that quitened as their owner's spirits were broken gradually – through the daily beatings, the shabby, almost inedible meals, the damp cells, the threadbare beds.

Now, only the Prussian's rants – addressed almost always to the East European female, who screeches and says that if he does not shut up immediately she will be sure to demasculinate him right then and there – which, of course is impossible since they are separated by a three feet thick (or so the Prussian claimed) wall – break the silence of their quarter of cells. But when the Prussian is down, the girl nonetheless tells – or rather, sneers – at him to man up and shut up with the moping around like a pansy already, which he thinks is actually just her way of comforting the moping Prussian.

It brings a smile to his face – which feels strange, since he has not smiled in a long time and sincerely believed that he had forgotten how to – or that may be he had not known how to in the first place – and it brings a smile ot his face, beacause he thinks that it is reassuring in a way – that at least the others have not abandoned their humanity yet. Even if they are broken, at least two of themcould at last find love. He finds it reassuiring and tries to be happy for their sake, but he thinks he has forgotten how to.

Nonetheless, the mere fact that someone could bicker like those two assured him that they were still human.

Unlike him.

**A/N : Yeah..as I said, I don't know, either. **

**S-s-should I continue this /shot/ ?**

**Also, in case I do continue this, the pairings will be : PruBel, FrUK, MattUkr, NorIceDen,SuFin.**

**For any other pairings, please tell me so I can (try to) include them. **

**And yeah, you read right. Thats NorIceDen. Lets just say..one of them will die? And its not Iceland. **

**ALSO, should I put in Rus/fem-Germany or RusAme? In case Rus/fem-Germany gets more votes, America will be paired with Japan! Yay! My 2 votes (author's privileges, guys -.-;) goes to Rus/fem-Germany (Who will be named Louise, btw)**

**Hmm...**

**Thanks for hitting this page! I hope you enjoyed reading! Reviews will encourage me to actually put some thought into what I write ^^;;;**

**A-also, I will give you two chapters (this Prologue and the next one) to decide that pairing for Russia ( in the rare case you actually want me to continue, that is, which I somehow doubt you do ^^;;;;) **

**( ' v ' )**

**Flames are welcome and shall be used to fuel the Kolzilla~**


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